


That Butler, Cybernetic

by goeskaboom



Category: Kuroshitsuji (Black Butler)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Computers, Cyberpunk, Gen, Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-05
Updated: 2010-09-05
Packaged: 2017-10-11 12:12:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/112274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goeskaboom/pseuds/goeskaboom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Futuristic AU. A boy, captured by the same people who killed his family, forms a deal with a rogue computer program with his own agenda to get revenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Butler, Cybernetic

Somewhere in Britain, 2889 CE

"What a pathetic litte human," the dark figure laughed, crackling with an unholy sort of electricity. "And here I was thinking that your kind treated us badly... they're so much worse to other humans. If I didn't know any better, I'd say that they used you in the manner that one would use a personal simulation program..." The boy just glowered in response.

"I know what happened to me, program," he spat, ignoring the slight taunting lilt in the entity's voice. "Now do whatever you were programmed to do. They sent you down here to finish the job, didn't they? Well, get on with it, then!" The boy bowed his head, waiting for the entity to deliver the blow that would kill him. Instead, it just quirked an eyebrow.

"Stupid human- you think that I would allow pathetic, weak humans to order me around? You really are naïve. Not that I'm surprised, you've probably never come across corrupted programs, malware, and viruses before. You're what, six or seven years old, right?"

"Ten," the boy retorted "And I thought the government wiped your kind out ten years ago, along with your creators? Your data was supposed to have been shredded." The virus smirked.

"So, the little human knows history. If you really are ten years old, you would have been a baby when it happened, so you have no idea of the atrocities the government committed in the name of exterminating threats to their tenuous hold on the world's computer access. I had originally been programmed to help my creator with his tech support business. But not too long after I was finished, my data corrupted, and I began to infect the computers I was supposed to be fixing. Even so, his family took care of me, feeding me the information I crave. It was probably a bad decision for them to not destroy me, because about six months later, the government came for them. You know what they did to my creator? They raped his pregnant wife right in front of him, shot his four-year-old son point-blank, shot his wife, then strangled him to death. Before he died, he managed to switch off my autopilot, which was what kept me tied to his business, even though I was no longer of use to him. It effectively gave me free will. Obviously, I escaped. Now, little human, you want to talk to me about what is fair and what is not? Thousands of programs, many of them not harmful at all, were destroyed painfully. Do you know the agony that is being magnetized out of existence? And their creators, and their creators families were murdered, all in the name of 'security.' So, human, whatever happened to put you down here was not unusual. Don't worry, though, if the state you're in is anything to go by, you won't last much longer. You'll just be another statistic, another casualty of our obsessed society." The program finished his rant, and leaned back on his heels, watching the trapped human.

"And after all of that you'd just leave me here to die?" the boy demanded to know. The program shrugged.

"Since my creator was killed, my primary function has been data theft. What do I care if an entitled little human dies?"

"What if I could offer you all of the data I have on my personal drive, if you agree to work with me to avenge my family?" the boy bargained. But this didn't have the desired effect at all. The program let out a frightening, barking laugh that sounded a lot like electronic feedback.

"And what would that be? Your homework? Bank account with £20 in savings? Sorry, child, I have no use for that kind of worthless data." The child snorted.

"For a program, you're not very smart. What I have are sensitive documents regarding the government's security infrastructure, the access codes for the international antivirus, sensitive identity information of every member of Parliament, and access to the Phantomhive family bank accounts." The program's mouth dropped open.

"You're awfully small to be a hacker," he said.

"I'm no hacker!" the boy exclaimed indignantly. "As the only surviving Phantomhive, when my parents were killed, everything transferred to me." The program laughed, shaking his head in something akin to disbelief.

"I never thought I'd see the day when a virus would collaborate with one of the Queen's watchdogs! Is this some kind of trick? You're going to delete me as soon as I let you free, aren't you?" The boy rolled his eyes and gestured to the sorry state he was in. Large, heavy chains made sure that he was shackled to the wall by his wrists and ankles, and those keeping him there had given him nothing to wear other than a very itchy-looking piece of gray fabric that the boy had somehow managed to tie like a toga. There wasn't anything about the boy that suggested he might have any sort of weapon. The program took this in, then nodded.

"Right. Well, little human, I know you're a Phantomhive, but what's your given name? I can't keep calling you 'human' or 'Phantomhive' if we don't want people to be suspicious about our relationship while we work together." The boy paused for a minute, then replied, almost shyly,

"Ciel. Ciel Phantomhive. And if we're going to work together, I can't call you 'program'- what are you called?" The program froze.

"My filename is 53845714N.exe. My creator's wife thought that the filename looked like 'Sebastian' when it was written out, so that's what she started calling me. It caught on with my creator too, although their son called me 'Mr. Program.'" It was strange, but Ciel could have sworn that he heard a slight affection in the ruthless rogue program's voice when he spoke of his creator and his family. Indeed, his voice seemed to have become quieter when he spoke of them.

Of course, Ciel didn't really care what had happened to the program's "Family," if you could call it that. Yes, they may have been brutally murdered, but so had his parents. And programs weren't supposed to care who used them. They were programs, tools to be used by humans. "Fine then, Sebastian it is, but what was your surname? Humans have surnames, and if you're going to pass for one, you need one too." The virus shot him a dirty look.

"In my world, your surname is your file extension. In my case, that would be .exe." Ciel resisted the urge to groan.

"That's a dead giveaway that you're not a human," he explained. "Now, what was the surname of your creator?"

"...Michaelis," Sebastian said after a pause. "It was Michaelis."

"Fine, you're Sebastian Michaelis now," Ciel said, trying to wave his small hand imperiously, but couldn't because of the shackles. "Now get me out of here." Sebastian shook his head.

"Not yet, young master," he said almost mockingly. "Keep your eyes open as wide as possible." Ciel looked at him nervously, but did as he was instructed. Sebastian stepped forward and touched Ciel's eyeball gently. The boy screamed in agonizing pain.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" he howled as the burning, stinging sensation seemed to overwhelm his brain.

"Ssssh," Sebastian shushed, petting Ciel's hair. "It'll be over soon. I'm just putting some of my code into your eye. That way, you can call for me if you need me and we're apart." And as promised, the pain did die down. Just in time for both program and human to hear a door at the top of the stairs creak open.

"Didja hear that?" a gruff male voice asked.

"No shit, Sherlock," a slightly higher, but still obviously male voice snapped back. "That's why we're going to check it out!"

"I do hope he hasn't died," a female voice added. "I am sure I could get a nice price for him from a collector, all my plans will be shot to shit though if he's dead... no matter how pretty he is no one's going to want a corpse!"

"Has anyone every told you you're a horrible sick fuck, Roxanne?" the first voice asked. The woman (Roxanne, apparently) just laughed heartily.

"All the time."

Ciel looked to Sebastian, eyes welling up with panic. "No..." he whispered. "Not now... not again!" Sebastian nodded.

"If you want me to kill them, just tell me. Order me," he explained. Ciel only hesitated for a moment, then nodded.

"Sebastian, I order you to kill them, then get me out of here!" The program nodded, smirking.

"Yes, My Lord."

End


End file.
